On Jinxes, Wishes and Miracles
by ThexInvisiblexGirl
Summary: Scully is bitter over her birthday. The fact she has to spend it pretending to be married to Fox Mulder doesn't help things. Pre-episode for Arcadia.


A/N: It always seemed strange to me how during their _Arcadia_ stint, Mulder was so into it while Scully remained mostly cold and businesslike, never once cowering against his blatant advances. I had this idea/explanation in my head for ages, but it only came together recently. I hope you'll enjoy my behind-the-scenes interpretation of Mulder and Scully's first (and only) undercover assignment.

* * *

 **On Jinxes, Wishes and Miracles**

They said nothing good ever happened on the month leading to one's birthday. A jinx, a cosmic misfortune, bad luck of sorts, whatever you wanted to call it. Infamous for her skepticism, Dana Scully had always dismissed such claims as baseless and ridiculous.

Until one day at the end of January, a month before her 35th birthday, when she slept through her alarm, broke her favorite mug and tore her hose literally the second she left her apartment. It was nothing short of a miracle that she even got to work on time. By the time she stormed into the Hoover building, she already hated everything about that day, and that was before she happened to notice Mulder with Diana Fowley, as if the bitch hadn't kicked them out of his apartment under false pretenses mere weeks prior. They didn't notice her, or anyone else for that matter, as they spoke in hushed voices, their heads close together.

And then the thing that took the cake: the meeting at Skinner's office, the first since their reassignment to the X Files. This was when she knew that not only her day couldn't possibly get any worse, but that all those years everyone had been right. There really was such thing as a pre-birthday jinx.

She could feel Mulder gloating next to her. Didn't even have to look at him; she just _felt_ it. "Uhhh... I'm sorry, Sir, what?" she asked anyway for good measure.

"Our first undercover assignment, Scully, isn't it exciting?" Mulder enthused in this over-the-top way, one that made it difficult to determine whether he was sarcastic or truly meant it. She honestly couldn't decide which option she preferred. She was still livid over witnessing his not-so-secret rendezvous with Diana.

"I trust you listened carefully the first time, Agents," Skinner said sort of exasperatedly, as though he too was uncomfortable with the information he had to deliver as she with the need to receive it.

"Loud and clear, Sir, we'll get on it right away," said Mulder, completely ignoring the glare she had tried to aim his way.

"You have until the end of the week for research and background checks. Then I want you back in here for presenting your findings and further briefing. Time is of the essence and we would like to have you settled in that house by the end of February."

"We're on it, Sir," said Mulder again and stood up. He seemed to be waiting for her to do the same and she did, reluctantly. She followed him back to their office in sour silence, all the while picturing a scenario in which she was grabbing Skinner by the collar, demanding whose stupid idea was this and why this person thought she had nothing better to do than pretend to be married to Fox friggin' Mulder.

"Are you okay, Scully?" Mulder asked as he sat in front of his desk, already typing something on his computer while sifting through an enormous pile of files on his desk.

 _What do you think?_ "Fine," she muttered, moving towards her own computer in the farther end of the room. Given the tiny office space, even that wasn't far enough. Whenever she glanced at him, in her mind's eye Diana was there next to him, gazing at him adoringly.

"Well, uhhh, I asked how you wanted to go about this. Since there are no autopsies to perform, I guess we'll just split the good old research between us?"

"Sure, whatever."

He paused, his fingers suspended above the keyboard. "Is there a problem?"

She looked up at him, but couldn't find words that wouldn't deem her unprofessional, so she left his question unanswered.

"Scully, if you're not comfortable with the assignment..."

"Then what, you'll request to be fake married to Agent Fowley instead?"

She regretted the words as soon as they slipped her lips, particularly at the sight of his wounded expression. "That's what this is about?"

"No. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said it."

"You should have if you meant it."

She had no reply for this. She was feeling too guilty over her outburst. Forget unprofessional; she sounded downright jealous and just a wee bit insane. The problem was she couldn't help it. Her loathing of Diana was as intense as Mulder's inexplicable draw towards her. She sighed and looked away. She heard a shift, then footsteps, and when she figured he was approaching her it was too late to flee without raising suspicion; he was already kneeling by her chair, holding her gaze captive.

"Whatever you may think, I meant what I said that day."

 _That day_. They had never spoken about That Day, never even mentioned it again once back from Antarctica. That didn't mean she didn't think about it daily, especially following his drug-induced declaration of love in the aftermath of the Queen Anne debacle. It dawned on her then that he might refer to that as well, but in her embarrassment she couldn't bring herself to ascertain one or the other. It definitely seemed recent months were filled with various That Days, or quite possibly small aftershocks of the first one.

"I know these past few weeks have been... challenging." He seemed to be making great efforts to avoid a reproach, not that she didn't deserve one. "But we're back on the X Files now; shouldn't we make the best out of it so long as we're in charge?"

She thought about Jeffrey Spender, whom all evidence pointed at being shot in that very office, who disappeared without a trace since. They owed him their reinstatement. The memory certainly shed different light on things. There were worse things than Diana Fowley.

"Also, it's close to San Diego. You can always crush at Bill's if I turn out to be a lousy husband, which will no doubt be the case. He'll love any chance to kick my ass."

He was looking at her so tenderly she had to crack a smile. And she was acutely aware of the last time he had looked at her like that. With the moment in his hallway charging the air between them like a current, it felt as though the ghost of Diana ceased to exist, albeit momentarily. She closed her eyes, forcing herself to get a grip. "I'll start with background checks on the families, you can review the community's guidebook thingie."

"Deal," he smiled carefully at her, a smile that widened an inch when she smiled back, now with more ease. "Also..." His smile turned into a proper grin now; a mixture of mischief and guilt. "Do you mind if I chose the names? I always wanted to work undercover."

* * *

The night before their move into The Falls they spent at a motel, though she'd been tempted to stay at Bill's and ditch Mulder with its thin walls and adjacent door and crappy cable. Despite his dislike of the actual case (he was still convinced it would turn out to be a run-of-the-mill missing persons case rather than a proper X File), he was unusually chipper, which got on her nerves in general, but even more so today. It was her birthday, and she was bitter, and furious with the world. Weren't birthdays supposed to be fun, celebrated with your loved ones? Not when you were a special agent with the FBI, apparently. Since the Academy she couldn't remember one birthday which was peaceful with just a tiny bit of magic.

She turned down Mulder's suggestion for dinner upon their arrival. She was feeling more rumpled than normally and preferred to take a proper shower. It actually helped; she felt much calmer afterwards. After slipping into sweats and a hoodie from her university days, she began to make arrangements for the following day, like an actress would prepare before going onstage. She took out of her suitcase the clothes she would need and hung them on the rack, item by item.

The FBI was surprisingly generous with the budget for this operation, and she found herself envious of Laura Peetrie's wardrobe. She got a peek at Mulder's outfits; it seemed both of them were expected to shed their gloomier Special Agent attires for pastel colors and yuppie designer brands. In her mind, Laura was not working around the clock like she had often done, certainly since her assignment to the X Files. Coming from a wealthy family, she didn't have to work for a living, but merely for something to do. She had a part time job in a glamorous somewhere, and the rest of the time she spent with Rob, whom she met through one of her father's many benefits.

Just as she was sitting on the edge of the bed, wondering if there was something she'd missed, a knock came at the door. "Who is it?"

"Rob Peetrie," there was a smirk in Mulder's voice. Back so soon? She could have sworn it hadn't been half an hour since they parted at the parking lot. Glancing at the digital clock by the bedside, she was shocked to discover it had been over two hours. She opened the door, did a double take, and burst out laughing. "Mulder, what the hell?"

For there he stood, grinning bashfully, holding out a cake in the shape of an alien head, with one candle burning in the center of its forehead. "You didn't think I forgot, did you?"

"I thought you liked to celebrate my birthday in dog years, so..." She let her voice trail, failing in sounding snarky. She eyed the cake suspiciously. "Where did you even..."

"That was quite the operation, actually. Tara was a huge help."

"Tara? My sister-in-law Tara?"

"Yup. All behind your brother's back. Don't ask," he pretended to shudder.

She softened despite herself, impressed by the efforts he had made to pull it all off. Contacting Tara in advance. Finding a confectionary, let alone one that sold cakes shaped as aliens. Driving to her brother's house without him knowing to pick it up. It was so much more than a small, meaningless gesture. She was truly touched. "I can't believe you did this."

"Everything for my darling fake wife," he said, batting his eyes.

It was hard to stay mad at him when he pulled off charming stunts like that. And then something else occurred to her, and she gave him a look. "What would you have done if I went to dinner with you?"

"In that case, it would have been a much longer evening." He smiled crookedly at her, then nodded towards the cake he still held. "Well, make a wish. This candle won't last forever."

 _Let me not fall for you any further. Let me be able to resist you. Let me not finish what we started in your hallway._

She blew over the candle, then peeked at him. "Done."

"Awesome," he grinned, then hesitated. "Since I didn't actually go to dinner, I brought back some burgers, if you want to..." He didn't have to finish his question. She nodded, then opened the door wider to let him walk passed her. He carefully placed the cake on a dresser, then ventured outside to fetch their dinner from the car.

He handed her a greasy paper bag which smelled amazing, then excused himself to go change. By the time he returned, dressed in jeans and a grey tee shirt, she set up a picnic on the floor. It was something they had never done in their six year partnership. He seemed too weary to tease her about being dressed more casual than casual (as he would probably have done under different circumstances) and she was grateful. If they were to act all lovey-dovey the next day, she didn't feel like fighting with him tonight.

"Oh, I have something for you," he said all of a sudden, taking out a small box from the back pocket of his jeans.

"You're kidding me," she said as he handed it to her. There was this familiar glint in his eyes. "Not another keychain, is it?"

"Nope, sorry. It's... the finishing touch," he said, grinning enigmatically. "Open it."

Now almost scared, she did. A gasp escaped her before she could hold it back, a mixture of shock and secret satisfaction.

"Your engagement ring," he said, mistaking her stunned silence for confusion. "Courtesy of the FBI."

It looked like Princess Diana's engagement ring, but the stone nestled within a circle of delicate diamonds wasn't the original sapphire, but rather a clear aquamarine. It didn't look like something he had randomly picked it at the store; it almost looked made-to-order. She looked up at him. "A replica?" she asked hopefully, holding her breath for an affirmation. To her utter distress, he snorted and shook his head.

"Hardly. I had to sign endless paperwork for this loan, more than for my weapon. Go figure. I had to get Skinner to convince the lady at the jewelry store that having a security guard living with us would blow our cover."

The humor of the statement barely registered. She was still staring at the ring. "How did you know my birthstone?"

"How do _you_ know your birthstone, Little Miss Skeptic?"

"I had a sister who did my head in about these things, what's _your_ excuse?"

"I'm just a good guesser," he replied stone-faced. Before she realized it he reached for her hand. His hesitant gaze found hers. "May I?"

Held under the ring's spell (and – she was kidding no one – his own as well), she watched as he gently slipped the ring onto her finger. It was a perfect fit. She knew she was meant to question that aspect of his choice as well – she didn't remember ever wearing a ring in his presence for him to be able to even guess her size – but she was in no condition for a proper inquiry at the moment. She was too busy pleading with her hand to remain steady.

"There," he whispered. When he looked up at her, that familiar spark was back in his eyes. "There are worse birthday gifts than a fake husband."

* * *

"So who do you think they are? These Rob and Laura Peetrie?" he asked. By that point it was so late there was absolutely no noise coming from outside. They were having musty tea which she had prepared with complementary tea bags that had apparently seen better days. The alien cake sat between them, more than half finished; it was impossible to tell white and green icing from chocolate cake. The motel Vacancy sign was flashing red, washing the room in color at intervals.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean... do you think they had an alien shaped cake at their wedding?"

She laughed tiredly. Every bone in her body ached. It had suddenly dawned on her they'd been up for nearly 24 hours. "I seriously doubt that, Mulder. People who consider buying a house in a community like The Falls wouldn't dream of having an alien shaped cake at their wedding."

"Fair point." She closed her eyes, drifting. She almost forgot he was still in her room, until he spoke again. "I wonder what their wedding was like."

"Classy and elegant but without seeming opulent. Maybe by a lake at sunset."

"I didn't know you were so romantic, Scully."

She opened her eyes only to glare at him. It didn't have the desired effect. "Well, you're the one who chose their names; what do you think? We'd better have our stories straight, after all."

"Classy and elegant is right, I guess. Exclusive guest list, most likely. Neither of them has many friends. They mostly keep to themselves, prefer each other's company."

"Now who's romantic?" she teased him, rolling her eyes. He shrugged, then yawned. Before she knew it, she found herself ask, "Was it love at first sight?"

At first she thought he would make fun of her again, but he actually considered it before he replied. "No, I don't think they liked each other very much at first. She must have thought he was incredibly annoying at first. He definitely thought she was overbearing, interfering in his every move, even suspecting he was fooling around with other women. But I think they sort of... grew on one another, over time. It was sort of inevitable. And at some point they must have realized there was no other choice. That all along, they have been right for one another."

His gaze rested on her, dark and intense. _Too_ intense. It sent a chill down her spine. She laughed sort of nervously. "We're still talking about Rob and Laura, right?"

"Who did you think I meant?" He answered her question with a question, looking innocent enough, but he obviously knew she wasn't stupid or naive. His hand hovered over hers, his fingertips barely grazing the surface of the ring. Her ring; Laura's ring. She could have sworn neither of them had moved, but suddenly he was sitting closer. The air was charged with that... thing once more. She detected intention in his eyes, having seen it before. It would be so easy to close the small distance left between them, to lean over, to bring much needed closure to That Day. Change everything forever.

 _Let me not fall for you any further. Let me be able to resist you. Let me not finish what we started in your hallway._

She pulled her hand away from underneath his and backed away ever so slightly. She didn't tell him that she couldn't do this, that they were better than this, or that he should go to bed, his bed, next door. She didn't have to. He let out this barely audible sigh and got up. She walked him to the door.

"So, uhhh, better get some shuteye. Busy day tomorrow." His voice was casual albeit timid. He met her eyes with difficulty, but there was no resentment in his stare. He even offered a small, weary smile. "If you need anything, just call me."

 _I do need you. More than you know_. "I can't imagine that I will."

It took him a moment to take in the subtle rejection. Then he nodded, and leaned forward. She all but held her breath for his next move, praying he wouldn't make her rebuff him further, but he merely pressed his lips to her forehead. "Happy birthday, Scully," he whispered, then disappeared in his side of the room before she had recovered herself enough to reply.

She closed the door slowly, scolding herself for her growing distraction. He was obviously aware of the affect he had on her. She should have made good on her birthday wish and resist him, as she had done since almost day one. She shouldn't have allowed herself letting her guard down, getting too close.

As she cleared the leftover cake and tea mugs, then got ready for bed, she made a decision. She couldn't lose her focus. As of tomorrow she must regain control of the situation. She would maintain the professional air she had come to muster in the past six years. She would be on her best behavior during their morning briefing at the San Diego PD, and then when they finally embarked on their undercover assignment, she wouldn't forget their actual circumstances. This wasn't real. Nothing about this was real, except for the ring and the ghost of his kiss still burning on her forehead.

Whatever feelings they had harbored for one another, their time would come. She didn't believe in pre-birthday jinxes, but she believed that. However, this was neither the time nor the place. As she waited in vain for sleep to come, his words swirled through her mind. _At some point they must have realized there was no other choice. That all along, they have been right for one another_. She thought about Diana, about That Day; she thought about her birthday wish. Something then occurred to her, as clear to her as the knowledge of her waning resistance.

In a case as bad as this one, there was no wish she could rely upon, but a miracle might do.


End file.
